Chapter 32 — "Drink and Fuck and Repeat."
The tourney continues with a whole lot gold bet on both knights.
Third pass — he adjusted, corrected the angle, and his lance hit the Tyrell knight square. It had hit hard.
The Tyrell knight left the saddle to sit on his arse.
A cheers if people erupted in the stands. Even Alacric with the Lord's stand up to celebrate the win and gold he won.
Damon rode a circuit of the lists with the easy pride of a man who had done the thing he knew how to do in front of people who knew how to appreciate it.
Alaric collected a cup. The steward was on his way to fill his cup . "I trust you all 'honourable' Lords to honour the bet "
The voices of groans came . But to Alacric it was Voices of Sore Losers. The tourney in that day ended.
The Lords who lost were at the ale tent — slightly less drunk than during the joust, slightly more aware of the hundreds of gold meant now that the heat of the betting moment had passed.
One of the Lord He looked at Alaric approaching and had the expression of a man doing rapid maths.
"Snow," he said.
"My lord," Alaric said pleasantly.
The lord paid.
Not happily. But completely — counting out the coin with the specific precision of a man who understood that not paying would be considerably more expensive than paying. His companion watched with the expression of someone who had tried to tell him the bet was a mistake and had been ignored and was now watching the consequences arrive.
Alaric pocketed the coin.
"Your man rode well," the lord said. The specific graciousness of a man trying to recover dignity through compliment.
"He did, quite a talent I have " Alaric said
.
"Reach trained?"
"Born and raised, met me in a Tourney in reach " Alaric said.
The lord's expression shifted slightly — recalibrating.
He nodded and moved away from the tent.
The grounds were clearing in the late afternoon — the specific winding down of a tourney day, the crowd thinning, the vendors beginning to pack, the quality of noise shifting from celebration to the more comfortable sound of people who had spent a day well and were heading somewhere warm.
Alaric moved through it with the coin heavy in his coat and the general mood of a man who had watched his people perform well and collected money from a lord who had underestimated them and found both experiences satisfying.
He was looking for Harys to share the first part of that satisfaction.
The tourney grounds continued their business around him. Somewhere behind him Damon was still being congratulated. Somewhere to his left Edwyn was sitting with the two-fifty with the quiet of a man processing a day that had been both less and more than expected.
"You have that look, that you won a lot of gold." Harys said smiling
Alaric handed him the note without speaking giving him the number " See it yourself."
Harys read it. Was quiet for a moment.
"This much, this one isn't a important Tourney even. We could have get more in a more major one " Harys said.
"Yes , they really underestimate us."
"Damm i should have been there to bet myself."
"Aye, but what would you bet your arse." Alacric said in rebuke and grinning
Harys handed the note back."Fuck you too Commander.
Alaric walked through it with the coin in one pocket and had been enjoying himself thoroughly .
The celebration would be real.
He found Damon first.
"You rode well,Damon. Enjoy and take in. This is your moment right there " he said.
"I know," he said. "You owe me a drink."
"I owe you several," Alaric said." Le me Start with one,"
Damon said. " And We can negotiate the rest."
They walked toward the camp fire together and behind them the Reach night came down warm and generous and entirely indifferent to whatever the north was doing.
But in the midst he spotted Another Lord who also bet against See Damon. He had been asking at the edge of the grounds — Alaric had seen him without noting him.
Alacric goes towards him and greeted him
"Snow," the man said.
Alaric " My Lord, ready to part from your gold" he said laughing.
The lord laughed"Yes, ofcourse wouldn't want Wolf of the Passes on my arse. Here is your gold " He said while handing him the gold pouch.
The man held out a folded piece of paper. Sealed — or had been.
Alaric took it.
Read it.
"Heard something interesting this morning," "Royal courier passed through two days ago. Moving fast."
"Where to," Alacric thought
When he got the answer he was shocked and realised at the same time
"North," Alacric said. "The king himself is moving to the North with Royal party already moving behind him.."
" Yes,The king," the Lord said. " Is Moving north. Quite obvious what he gonna do. I enjoyed your company quite a bit. So this is a gift from side."
Alacric was silence and nodded gratefully "Thanks , I will remember it . I should excuse myself, My Lord " he said and Lord nodded back and moved back to party and drinking.
The steward noticed Alaric's stillness.
Looked at the axe.
Looked at his face.
"Need fil? Commander Snow.," the steward said carefully.
Alaric looked at him and nodded to get a fill of ale . It seems he needs it more than ever if he is thinking right.
The realm had been without a Hand for weeks. Robert had been in King's Landing during that time — receiving counsel, managing the court, doing the things that Robert did and didn't do when left to his own devices without Jon Arryn to manage the machinery.
And now he was moving north. Fast. With a royal party.
There was only one thing north that Robert Baratheon would ride for personally. One man he trusted enough to cross the realm for. One name that Jon Arryn's death made suddenly and urgently relevant.
Alaric knew it. After all He grew up listening to the stories of his Uncle and King friendship and Rebblion.
Alacric shook his head and moved towards his men
"Tonight we celebrate, boys" Alaric said. "Damon's win. Edwyn's second. The gold." He put the note in his coat alongside the coin.
"Drink , Fuck and repeat. It's on me tonight" Alacric said and that immediately had the reaction of him men cheering him to thier death.
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